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The Anna Raccoon Archives

by Petunia Winegum on September 29, 2015

Beyond the endless TV mags, titillating rags and metrosexual men’s handbooks, I spied a tiny handful of what used to be called comics on the newsstand the other day. All bar one notable exception appeared to be movie merchandise, just another spin-off with the same limited shelf-life of the film they were promoting. How different from the reading material today’s parents, grandparents and great-grandparents were brought up on, for one British industry that benefitted from the immediate post-war baby-boom quicker than any other was the comics business. A sudden upsurge in the audience for its output sent circulation figures soaring in the 1950s; the two pre-war instigators of the fast-paced speech bubble form of strip, The Dandy and The Beano, were selling 4 million copies a week between them throughout the decade. Characters such as Desperate Dan, Korky the Cat, Lord Snooty and Biffo the Bear were joined by Dennis the Menace and his female tomboy equivalent Minnie the Minx as well as the Bash Street Kids to usher in a golden age for the Great British Comic.

Dundee’s DC Thompson was the publisher of several Scottish newspapers and periodicals and had a strong, moralistic streak born of its Presbyterian roots, which makes it all the more surprising it should give birth to so many anarchic characters in the pages of its comics. For a company that didn’t even allow unions, let alone credit artists while owning full copyright of their material, DC Thompson attracted a quietly radical group of subversive cartoonists whose furtive imaginations created anti-authoritarian figures that got away with things their readership never could. Pillars of the adult community, whether teachers, policemen or simply parents, were all outwitted and made to look idiotic by the mischievous kids conceived by the likes of Dudley Watkins, Leo Baxendale and Ken Reid. At a time when a clip round the ear or six-of-the-best were what children could expect as an adult response to even the most modest inkling of rebellion, it’s no wonder they took these little libertines in stripy red-and-black pullovers to their hearts.

The Dandy and The Beano as well as DC Thompson’s post-war additions to the comic catalogue, The Beezer and Topper, were within every child’s pocket-money range, always the most affordable publications on the market and specialising in a uniquely British form of entertainment. Following the moral panic over the imported EC horror comics in the early 50s, the embargo on US titles was waived at the end of the decade when the two great publishing houses of American comics, DC and Marvel, unleashed their output on the British market. They boasted full colour and primarily featured strongman superheroes in tights, but were smaller, more expensive and monthly with it. British comics were cheaper and weekly. Joining DC Thompson in a booming industry during the 60s were the likes of IPC and Odhams, publishers of Buster, Wham!, Pow!, and Zip. They didn’t all specialise in humour, however; comics here catered for every taste, every contemporary childhood interest, and both genders.

There were the boys’ comics that capitalised on the fascination with the war their readership had missed out on – Victor, Battle, Commando and Warlord, as well as ones that covered a wider spectrum of adventure, such as The Hotspur, The Hornet, The Wizard, Jag, Jet, Valiant, Lion and Tiger; there were ones that blended action with C-of-E-style educational aspects such as The Eagle and Look and Learn; there were ones that drew on the first real competition the domination of comics faced in the 60s, television – TV Comic, TV Century 21, TV Tornado, TV Action; there were comics aimed at pre-school children, such as Jack and Jill, Teddy Bear, Bobo Bunny, Robin, Playhour, Playland and Pippin as well as ones that were particularly for pre-school girls, such as Twinkle and Bonnie; and, of course, there were numerous comics aimed at those Daughters of Eve already enrolled into the school system, all of which upheld the curious tradition of being named after girls – Judy, Jinty, Bunty, Tina, Tammy, Mandy.

Comic sales in this country reached their final peak in the early 70s, when ten million a week were flying off the newsstands. Demand was so high that a flurry of new titles were added to an increasingly-overcrowded market, including such memorable ones as Whizzer & Chips, Cor!, Knockout, Shiver & Shake, Whoopee!, Krazy, and Roy of The Rovers. After the likes of late 60s titles Fantastic and Terrific had reprinted stories starring some of their more celebrated superheroes, Marvel established their own British branch in 1972 and quickly flooded newsagent’s racks with a range of popular titles that introduced many readers to the Marvel universe, increasing the strain on pocket-money. Like many children belonging to the comic generations, choosing which weekly to splash out 3, 4 or 5p on was a constant conundrum. I used to chop and change from month-to-month, figuring if I couldn’t buy them all every week I could at least sample as many different titles one at a time within a calendar year. There were also the holiday specials during the summer, larger and thicker editions of the regular weeklies, and not forgetting the hardback annuals that were usually the most eagerly-awaited Xmas gifts.

The alternatives to comics as the 1970s progressed widened to encompass the teen end of pop culture, especially where a female readership were concerned, and pop elements crept into most of the girls’ titles as well as dominating the likes of Jackie as puberty beckoned. Look-in enjoyed a long run by blending pop with TV, attempting to exploit the popularity of two entertainment mediums that were sucking away the lifeblood of the comics industry. A pointer to the future for the genre appeared in the mid-70s when IPC unleashed a notoriously violent weekly called Action, one that appeared to reflect the times a little too closely for moral watchdogs, who brought pressure on the company to cease publication of a title that had aimed to approach comics with a more adult sensibility. A couple of years later, IPC solved the problem by placing their cynical vision of the 70s in the future and calling it 2000AD, a title that remains the only survivor from the last golden age of British comics.

The talented team of young writers and artists that worked on 2000AD, including Alan Moore, helped pave the way for the arrival of the graphic novel in the 80s, at a moment when the traditional British comics industry was sliding into terminal decline. All long-running titles bar the twin foundation stones of the format, The Dandy and The Beano, had disappeared by the end of the twentieth century, and even the former finally vanished into cyberspace come 2012. Political correctness didn’t affect the success of the graphic novel, but it impacted on the remaining comics aimed at children. No longer could Desperate Dan guzzle a dozen cow pies or Lord Snooty gorge himself on a mouth-watering banquet amidst an obesity epidemic, no longer could Dennis the Menace receive the slipper or the Bash Street Kids receive the cane. Now that adults had been stripped of the authority these kid’s heroes had always rebelled against, how could children rejoice in characters getting away with what they themselves were now able to do without much in the way of opposition?

Despite the fact that comics always seemed to be dismissed by parents as being responsible for filling their children’s heads with too much imagination – outrageous! – they were an extremely canny vehicle for kids to learn to read. I could read before I started school mainly because I devoured comics ravenously. I don’t recall much talk of poor literacy levels back then. From the first issue of The Dandy in 1937 to the first issue of 2000AD in 1977, British comics were integral to British childhoods, especially when there were few other outlets for escapism on offer. Computer games may take today’s children into worlds that their parents and grandparents could only visualise in the pages of 2000AD or The Eagle, but the variety available within those pages encompassed a far wider world of possibilities for the infant imagination than slaughtering zombies. Not for the first time, I’m glad my childhood took place a long, long time ago in a universe far, far away.

May I add that the ‘Commando’ brand may well have been resurrected? I’m sure I read an article to that effect somewhere relatively recently, and I certainly saw a copy of one of their little books in the last couple of weeks.

I had a Scottish pal at primary school who once leant me his ‘Oor Wullie’ annual, which was my introduction to the character. He also told me my favourite ‘knock-knock’ joke… Knock-Knock Who’s there? European European who? European down ma leg!

Belonging to the first decimal generation, my awareness of old money really came when raiding the comic box at school during a mid-70s wet break. A 1967 copy of ‘Fantastic’ had 6d on the cover, with my curiosity then inspiring one of those great childhood hobbies, collecting coins. I began with the £sd currency and then progressed to foreign ones. I must have hundreds at one time, kept in a tin box with a sticker of Tony Tiger on the front of it! Ah, memories…

2000AD is still flourishing, but is aimed at adult readers rather than kids, I think. Some of the artwork is outstanding. When Marvel comics appeared here in the 1960s, they were very hard to find. The main newsagents didn’t stock them. The market they aimed at the was “young adults” — especially college students — rather than kids.

Yes. Go into any of the specialist Scifi/Film/TV shops – think ‘Forbidden Planet’ – and in most of those there is usually a graphic comic section, some of which can be huge, even if, as web based material is on the upsurge, not necessarily to the same extent now as was evident from that huge circular hall that there was in Forbidden Planet’s flagship store in New Oxford Street during the 80s and 90s.

The continental market was also immense. I remember being awestruck at the size of the department, and range of choice offered, in the Virgin store in Marseille. Having said that, the other thing that was quite different there was, in the more relaxed atmosphere that there seems to be abroad, the large volume, on open display, of adult graphic novels that would probably have got you arrested in the UK then, and for all I know, probably still today.

Oddly, I don’t remember seeing any anime, or suchlike, there at all. I think I was just boggle eyed at what the French and Italians, if my memory serves me right, seemed to then be able to produce with impunity

The first time I ever went to France (aged nine), I remember the shop on the campsite having a range a comics I glanced through the pages of. One in particular was very much of the Oz/Freak Brothers genre – pornographic, looking back, and hiding in plain sight, as they say. Quite an eye-opener for somebody raised on the output of IPC and DC Thompson!

A comic in all but name was Rupert Bear. It appeared in, I believe, the Daily Getsmuchworse — just a few frames a day — and was bundled up in to an annual, always part of the stocking content at Christmas.

Politically incorrect now, much of it; a friend with grandchildren has to edit the annuals, of which he seems to have quite a collection, before presenting or reading them to the little mites.

In the annual (possibly in the newspaper too; I forget) there was the story in prose and, beneath each picture, a rhyming couplet in the inevitable iambic pentameter. I recall that, on first encountering the Graves (translation of the Iliad), I came away thinking I’d just read an episode of Rupert Bear!

And … can there have been a young British boy in those days without a crush on Tiger Lily?

I did once have a Rupert annual, and what stands out in my memory above all else was the tiny Rupert at the very top of each page, who walked along it if you flicked through the pages. I don’t know if this was a feature of every annual, but I know many school exercise books thereafter included my own DIY equivalent.

From my, albeit very limited, collection, the 1973, 1978 and 1979 have a small figure at the top of each page, but the animations, if they really are such – you can use your imagination a bit, but they are fairly rough and ready – only cover three or 4 pages each. They also seem to be repeated both within each annual, and across years

As a Conjuror of useless information, my contributions to human knowledge know no bounds

According to the website I provided the link for, I’m pretty sure it stated some copies of the 1973 annual were worth a small fortune because Rupert’s face is accidentally coloured brown instead of white. Check it out. You could be sitting on a goldmine!

Unfortunately, my two copies from 1973 are both from the half million or so, on the cover of which Rupert has an impeccably white face, and which, in doing so, caused so much trauma to so many of that generation of children that they had the misfortune to grow up to be Daily Mail readers. They should sue.

My favourite — from the point of view of political incorrectness — recounts Rupert’s visit to a tropical island. I believe Beryl the girl guide was along for the ride. One of the pages has a top marginal note: “Rupert meets a darkie”; the whole tale, as I recall it full of references to ‘coons’. (With apologies to the landlady.)

First let it be said that, in my childhood — before the illegal Wilson régime’s divers Race Relations Acts — we never thought much about people of colour: i.e. if ever we encountered them, we treated them with the courtesy extended to any-one else. (I became aware as I matured — or, at least, grew older — that in certain unsavoury parts of our major cities there had been or still was animosity toward them: ‘No blacks or Irish’, for example, a sign too often seen in the window of a B.-and-B. or of a house with a room to let.)

Although it had never been customary to use the word ‘nigger’ in reference to a negro (the latter term current and entirely inoffensive), the word raised not a mouse’s eyebrow when used — as it typically was — to describe, mainly in relation to dress fabrics, a strong and pleasant colour: nigger brown.

Gibson’s black labrador was famously named Nigger and depicted in the film ‘The Dam Busters’ with several allusions to him by name and, as you’ll recall, his name was used in code to indicate breach of the Möhne dam.

Phew! That’s certainly appreciated in value – I’m glad I bought it when it first came out! It is, of course, more of an analysis than a straight reprint volume, even though it contains substantial runs of most of the controversial strips like Hook-Jaw and Death Game, and all of the Kids Rule OK, which is widely regarded as being The Last Straw by those at the top at IPC. For collectors it’s pretty much invaluable, as it contains most of the 23 October 1976 issue, all bar 30 internal copies of which pulped before the comic went on haitus, only to return after a five week gap in much-muzzled form. On top of that, it even includes some examples of original artwork that was censored pre-publication even before the 23 October issue.

I remember on BBC4’s excellent ‘Comics Britannia’ series, a front cover of ‘Action’ depicting football hooligans descending upon a middle-aged man with a policeman’s helmet at his feet was deemed to be the last straw by the IPC. Ironic when far more graphic images of violence at the Grunwick strike could easily be seen on the news by the ‘Action’ readership.

I think that was probably because children were actually taught to read back then, rather than anything to do with comics.

And I never could stand Rupert Bear, because it was written throughout in the present tense; I still can’t stomach novels written in the present tense: drove me mad at age six and still does. It’s all Rupert’s fault (the bear, not the Aussie).

It is so engrained in my heart, that I can remember the first proper comic that my parents ever bought me, and I could take you to the spot where we got it – although nowadays it’s part of a ‘gentrified’ flat, rather than a newsagent

It was an ‘Eagle’. Dan Dare, with his sidekick Digby, and the villanous Mekon were the cover boys. The rear was, as ever, a Biblical strip, and if memory serves me right, on that occasion it covered the Crucifixion, and Jesus relationship with Barrabus

The Eagle’s ‘cutaways’ were great for their time, covering detailed explanations of the principles behind all sorts of scientific tools and applications as well as setting out some outstanding future visions. Anyone else remember the Nuclear Powered Airliner and Ship?

I have stashed away in a bookcase a volume of reprints of these that was, until fairly recently, available at bargain remainder bookshops. If you can find a copy, it’s worth a browse through, at least, for the nostalgia

There were also Film Fun (black & white) and Radio Fun (red & white). Many of the characters must have been pre-war because I had not heard of a lot of them. There was also Mickey Mouse, and the incredibly boring, bought-by-worthy-parents, Children’s Newspaper. In which comics were Deed-a-Day Danny the boy scout, and Weary Willie and Tired Tim? The younger member of my family read the Rainbow.

Yes, comics like Film Fun, Radio Fun and The Rainbow had their roots in the pre-Dandy/Beano, pre-war era. I think the arrival of the latter two really kick-started the golden era because they dispensed with the Rupert tactic of the text below the panel and replaced that with speech bubbles. From memory, only ‘Black Bob’ the sheepdog still used the old style presentation from my own childhood.

“Despite the fact that comics always seemed to be dismissed by parents as being responsible for filling their children’s heads with too much imagination – outrageous! – they were an extremely canny vehicle for kids to learn to read. I could read before I started school mainly because I devoured comics ravenously. I don’t recall much talk of poor literacy levels back then. From the first issue of The Dandy in 1937 to the first issue of 2000AD in 1977, British comics were integral to British childhoods, especially when there were few other outlets for escapism on offer. Computer games may take today’s children into worlds that their parents and grandparents could only visualise in the pages of 2000AD or The Eagle, but the variety available within those pages encompassed a far wider world of possibilities for the infant imagination than slaughtering zombies. Not for the first time, I’m glad my childhood took place a long, long time ago in a universe far, far away.”

These are wise words, so true. I vividly remember reading everything when I was a little child, from comics to even quite grown up book, where I had some difficulty in working out what the adult protagonists were actually doing sometimes… Be that as it may my comics of choice where “The Victor” (“Aaaaiiiii!” “Achtung”!) and Whizzer and Chips. Both with a bacon sandwich on a Saturday morning…then off for an Airfix kit from the model shop in town. I would normally complete that in the afternoon, depending on how much attention I was paying to the paint. I got quite fussy in the end…Then wrestling on World of Sport. Then Dr Who at 6ish….. I don’t own an X Box and I never shall play Call of Duty or Grand Theft Auto…but I consider myself blessed.

I never did a Defiant that I can recall. When I started out my favourites were Spitfires, but I displayed an alarming attraction to German military hardware: Focke Wulf 190s, ME 109’s, Tiger and Panther Tanks, the Panzer IV and V and the ever fiddly but brilliant 88 mm anti aircraft/tank gun and the attendant half track. I got quite good in the end. I had all the tools and paints, and even a miniature spray gun for a perfect finish. My apogee was a large scale E Boat, which was truly immaculate. Beautiful dappled grey camouflage. I had it mounted on a plinth, but I can’t remember what happened to it…

Another splendid trip down memory lane. Funny how remote and odd it all seems now. If you hanker after the old comics you could do a lot worse than read Viz. Much of the artwork is lovingly familiar and the intelligence behind the humour is very evident, even if it is bawdy. The letters pages and profanisaurous should be required reading

……………to see what kind of humour appealed to the kids who were risking their lives dodging SAMs, and bombing large areas of Saddam’s real estate, whilst flying these things.

For the life of me, after a lifetime of Private Eye and so on, I really struggled to ‘get’ any of it.

I then had a look at contemporary telly humour and found the same thing. What on earth makes people find Reeves and Mortimer funny is totally beyond me. And I could now watch a whole evening of Ricky Gervais without a twitch of the lips

The good thing though was that it helped me understand the ‘generation gap’ thing even more, and although I’ve never quite understood the kids, not they me, at least I understand that their being different is no bad thing

Viz in the 1990s was a lot different to Viz now. The young students who started it are now middle aged men and their humour is more satirical than it was was, which is why they saw off the crude imitators. They are also very good at spotting social stereotypes and lampooning them, rather like the shorter strips in Private Eye.

I remember one story where Roger Melly, The Man on the Telly, hosts a cookery competition and goes off for a 24 hour beano in the time between announcing THE WINNER IS and actually giving the name, whilst the dumb contestants just stand there in a line. Very familiar if you ever watch Bake Off or Master Chef. You can also expect to see a return of Millie Tant and her Radical Conscience pretty soon in the post Corbyn world.

Best of all, Chris Donald is a closet train spotter and draws pretty good likenesses of Deltics when he gets the chance. This alone gives him the freedom of Veritas Towers

Good memories indeed! I never quite understood those children choosing war-based comics, though – it was always the naughty antics of The Beano et al for me. The promise of a free-gift in the next week’s edition provoked genuine & impatient enthusiasm, counting the days, almost. And the gifts seemed specially designed to take someone’s eye out or cause gentle mayhem (although my memory is probably playing tricks here).

I’m not sure what role they played in my learning to read; I’ll have been on my mother’s lap with a Ladybird book, I imagine. Ah, those long-gone days when one working-class parent could afford to raise a family rather than going out to work to earn the money to pay someone else to do it, surely with more invested in achieving a successful outcome… A notion as outdated as receiving a slipper across the backside.

(Having once spent a day wandering around Dundee I’m amazed that so much fun could have flowed from such a place. Perhaps all the colour was drawn out of its streets & people to ink the comics’ pages?)

I’m quite fond of the old Marvel UK black and white weekly reprints, although I’m told they are not very collectable. They had the particular advantage of being able to cash-in on film and TV tie-ins: a cartoon series of the Fantastic Four, plus live-action versions of Spiderman and The Incredible Hulk. Indeed, I remember being bemused that the comic-strip Hulk was able to talk, while Lou Ferrigno would only growl and grunt. I expect Star Wars Weekly must have been a license to print money, and from 1979 Doctor Who Weekly.

Odd that DC never seemed to capitalise in the same way, despite the enduring popularity of the 1960s Batman TV series in the 1970s and Christopher Reeve’s Superman films. Some colour (color?) imports and reprints were available, I recall, but hard to find. I remember being fascinated by the adverts in the American comics that I did come across – one of these days I must actually attempt to eat a Twinkie.

Twinkies? Greasy sponge filled with chemicals – a real disappointment. (‘Eat a Twinkie’ was on my bucketlist for first trip to USA, thanks to their immortalisation in song by the drugged-up Galaxie 500.)

I too enjoyed the Marvel UK reprints, especially since the contemporary US Marvel monthlies seemed to be bought as an utterly random job-lot by newsagents, with no two titles available in the same shop from one month to the next. At least the British ones could be followed on a weekly basis. And it always struck me as odd that DC didn’t follow suit over here as well.

My best memories of Rupert Bear, (serialised in the Daily Express), were the jars of sunshine, the underground railcars and the room of Tiger Lily’s dad where all the stuff that gets ‘vanished’ turns up in. I’m still looking for that room!

My parents were not at all rich and the price of it must have hurt. Assuming it was, as the cover says, September time I can’t imagine what the ‘treat’ was for.

Only ever had the one issue becaue, truth be told it was a bit too advanced for me. Kept that magazine though for years…somehow surviving all the moves. I seem to recall it was a mix of magazine and comic, very ‘Preteen Readers Digest’ with everything a bright young boy might usefully fill his mind… a comic of the finding of them famous Cave Paintings dans France was the ‘lead’ if my memory serves….

Probably never made it up into the barren Northern wastelands…it was written in English afterall . I have a feeling it was originally an American mag that tried to get a toe hold over here. The artwork was amazing and the articles well written from what little I remember….a large format Readers Digest -if Readers Digest had been edited by John Craven perhaps.

I’d never heard of this one either, but it apparently continues:http://www.cricketmagkids.com/new/october-2015 From Wikipedia we learn that it was: “…founded in September 1973 by Marianne Carus, whose intent was to create “The New Yorker for children.”

Anyone remember the American horror comics in the 50s? we loved them and they were not easy to find, we had to go to a very creepy little book shop in the Gorbals. Some on the things they featured would horrify people now but I think a lot of the sex angles just went over our heads. They were banned in the first moral panic I can remember, first of so many to the present day historical sex scandals.

Does nobody else remember The Magnet, featuring Billy Bunter, the fat owl of the Remove, who was such a figure of fun to, and so tormented by, his more personable chums at Greyfriars School? In the thirties he stood out precisely because he was so fat and greedy, though I don’t suppose that would make him particularly unusual these days.

Every Tuesday I would buy ” Wizard” and “Adventure” and on Thursday it was the “Rover” and “Hotspur” when they were properly written stories instead of the captioned picture stories of later years. The adventures of Alf Tupper, Bernard Briggs, Mr Wakefield and Matt Braddock took me out of the grimy North East, at least in my mind, and also taught me the principles of life of truth, perseverance and honour, as well as English grammar, spelling, and written word play. Instead of wanting to be the hero of the story, I always wanted to be George Bourne, the fictional author of ‘I flew with Braddock’. These tales pushed the view that it was the bombers, light and heavy, of the RAF which took the fight to the enemy when the more glamorous fighters were more defensive. Happy days and thank you for bringing those memories back.